Review: Howl's Moving Castle by Diana Wynne Jones

"I think we ought to live happily ever after." - Diana Wynne Jones, Howl's Moving Castle

I was introduced to this story first throuh the Studio Ghibli animated film. Although confusing at first, it's earned its place in my heart as one of my all-time favourite movies. Once I discovered it was based on a book, that got added to my TBR so freaking fast, and after putting it off for forever, I finally got around to buying it and giving it a readthrough.

Howl's Moving Castle follows Sophie, a young hat maker who gets cursed by the Witch of the Waste and is turned into an old woman, unable to tell anyone she is actually under a spell. After running away from home, so as not to cause confusion or fear, she turns to the mysterious moving castle, and the wizard Howl who owns it. There, she strikes a deal with the demon Calcifer--break his contract with Howl, and he'll break the spell the Witch put on her.

Although Howl is well known for eating the hearts of young girls, Sophie soon learns the rumours running wild aren't as true as she believed--but his contract with the fire demon is much more complex and mysterious than she originally anticipated. On top of it all, things are never very ordinary around the castle--from a door that opens to four different places, to a magic scarecrow following them across the hills of Ingary. Sophie must navigate through this world of magic, spells, and curses, if she ever wants to return to her true self.

The problem I have with any book-to-movie or book-to-TV adaptation is that I have a big tendency to prefer the version I experience first, and Howl's Moving Castle seems to be no exception. One of the only reasons I kept reading was my love for the movie. (Another was that I was too far into it and didn't have time to read through another book before my review was due WELP.)

Don't get me wrong, though--the world was just as magical as the movie portrayed it, for which I was grateful. They don't often go into too much detail or backstory about the world, and just sort of let you take the reigns and run with it. Heavy world building is what normally turns me away from the fantasy genre, so I like that a book with a premise so highly dependent on fantastic elements is able to make the world come alive without having to go into the whole history of how it all began. That much, at least, the book did right.

This version of the story failed me, though. The things that I found most interesting--namely, Howl's history and background in Wales--wasn't explored anywhere near as much as I thought they should have been. I wanted to know how he found Ingary, why he left Wales, what form magic takes in our world. Instead, we got no explanation--we just had to accept that that was Howl's history and move on, with little more detail or answers. 

Meanwhile, my favourite bits that were included were sort of left up in the air until the last minute. Sohpie and Howl's relationship barely seemed to progress at all until the final few chapters, until suddenly Sophie was jealous and they were in love. I got absolutely no indication of Howl or anyone knowing of the curse, and quite frankly the appearance of her family towards the end was just kind of random. I did love Michael's relationship with Martha, and enjoyed watching as that progressed on the sidelines. But that was about the only saving grace for me.

I don't know. I feel like this book had so much potential, but as much as I loved the movie, the book just didn't give me the same feeling.

Final rating: 2.8

Until later,

- Justyne

Micro Fiction Monday: The First Leaf

At exactly 3:42 on a Tuesday afternoon, the first leaf of autumn fell. Everyone knew it was coming—the leaves were all shades of golden and auburn, and the sun was beginning to set early in the evening. It was only a matter of time before one gust of wind carried enough chill to pluck the dying leaf from its branch, lowering it gently to the ground.

This moment of contact, the first of many, marked the official End of Summer. It was the point of no return, the first preparation for winter. The moment you know that there will be no more warm days on the forecast, and that every risk of rain would quickly become a risk of snow. It’s the moment everyone finally packs away their shorts and tank tops, dares to put the sunscreen farther back in the bathroom cabinet. It’s the moment every child finally accepts that school is back for the long run, and when every parent realizes that Christmas is just around the corner.

The first leaf marks an end, a beginning, and the beginning of a larger end as we enter the final quarter of the year. It holds all the memories of a summer gone, and all the possibilities of a year yet to come. It’s not only the essence of change, but a reminder that some things never do.

New York, New York

I have always, always, always, always, always wanted to live in New York. I am entirely aware that this is a notion spurred by movies, and television shows, and books that romanticize this idea of living in the "greatest city in the world". I'm not even sure I ever want to follow through with this desire, because there is no way it will live up to what I envision it to be

And yet, today I watched You've Got Mail for probably the hundredth time in my life, and found myself wishing once again.

I've always loved that movie. Maybe it's the books. Maybe it's the romance. Maybe it's the fact that it's always had a very cool, autumn vibe, because that's when the story starts off. Or maybe because, just like Mr. Joe Fox, I love the idea of New York in the fall.

It was fourteen degrees today, as we packed up the car and headed home after a visit in Regina. It's the coldest I've seen since spring faded into summer over three months ago, and the second time I've chosen pants over shorts in the last week. Two weeks ago I did my back-to-school clothes shopping, picking up sweaters and jeans and other clothes suitable for chilly weather. In another seven days, my birthday will be here, and school will follow shortly after.

Summer is nearing an end. Even though the temperatures are set to climb high once again in the coming week, and will very likely stay that way for a while yet, the sweet, sweet freedom of a student's summer will soon be over.

It kinda sucks, sure. I'll be sad to hide away my sundresses, of course. But I love fall, and the winter that follows. I love curling up under blankets, having a warm cup of hot chocolate to accompany a movie. I even love the fresh start a new school year brings--y'know, before the assignments and exams start. 

When fall comes, I will gladly welcome it with open arms.

Until later,

- Justyne

Review: On the Other Side by Carrie Hope Fletcher

"I've never been able to figure it out, but your mother had a word for it.""And what was that?""Magic."- Carrie Hope Fletcher, On the Other Side

Evie Snow is 82 when she passes away peacefully in her sleep, surrounded by her family and loved ones. When she wakes up, she's 27 again, and the door to her apartment--her own personal heaven--is locked. To open it, she has to lighten her soul of the burden of a lifetime's worth of secrets she's kept hidden from her children over the years. Revealing these secrets from the Great Beyond, though, means revisiting one magical year where everything was perfect--and the man that she was never meant to be with.

I reviewed Carrie's first book, All I Know Now, shortly after its release last year. Since that one was nonfiction, I had no idea what reading this book--her first work of fiction--would work out. It sounded intriguing, and I was very, very excited to read through it!

If there was ever a book that best encompassed the concept of magical realism, it's this one. The supernatural elements of this book are sudden and spaced out in such a way that it never fails to catch you off guard, even as you reach the finale. The sentences that start out as metaphors end up being literal, which make for a very quirky fantasy. There often seems to be no rhyme, reason, or rules to how this magic works--like Carrie summoned her imagination and let it take the reins whenever it had the urge. It's not a method I would recommend, necessarily--but I didn't dislike it. It gave the story a certain unique charm that I don't normally see in the books I pick up.

Carrie has stated herself that she made an effort to create a timeless setting. She avoided mention of any technology beyond the realm of cars and animated movies. I can see the longterm benefit of this decision, but I honestly feel like she could've benefitted more from picking a timeline and identifying it from the beginning. It would've given the setting a lot more character--because as it stands, the setting is just a dull backdrop behind extraordinary characters.

Speaking of--Carrie is very good at portraying her characters fully in fewer words. She did a lot of backstory, though, which wasn't always needed, and was written in a way that sometimes just dragged the story on longer than necessary.

Overall, the story was imaginative, quirky, and full of wonder--much like Carrie herself. It's not necessarily a story that I would read again, but her voice and style are solid in her first novel.

Final rating: 3 stars.

Until later,

- Justyne

Micro Fiction Monday: Weakness

“Need any help?”

I closed the book as I looked up, careful to keep my finger between the pages. “No, thanks, I’m good!”

The employee looked at me warily. “Okay. Let me know if you do.”

I nodded and smiled, turning back to the shelf as though I was still contemplating my purchase. “Absolutely!”

He stuck around a little longer this time. I ran my fingers across the spines, even pulled out another book and compared it to the one I had. As soon as he was out of sight, I shoved it back into place and opened the one I had spent the last hour and a half reading.

I don’t normally do this, I swear. But the library waiting list was like a mile long, and payday wasn’t for another week...I had every intention to buy the book. Just, y’know. After I had spent numerous hours reading it in the store.

Pretending not to read, though, is really, really hard when it’s a very, very good book. I tried to move around inconspicuously, but it was never long before an employee turned up, eager to make a sale. The last one—a boy with shaggy hair and a silver earring his left ear—had already approached me three times. 

“Hey.”

Make that four. I flushed and slammed the book shut again. “Sorry, I was just—“

The employee shook his head and thrust a slip of paper at me. I blinked. It was a receipt.

“Take this with the book into the coffee shop,” he said. “Quick. Before my manager sees.”

I took it slowly. “Wow. Um. Thanks.”

He smiled. “Just let me know what you think when you’re done. I’ve been wanting to read that all week.”

He walked away, leaving me stunned in the mystery section.

Visualization

When I find myself in a bookstore--which, let's be honest, I often do--I like to mentally shelve my books. I find the E authors--there are never very many of them--and run my hands down the spines until I find where my name fits.

There. Somewhere between Emond and Everett; that's where my book would go--where it will go, someday.

It's weird, I know. But as dorky as it is, I still do it.

You know what else I do? I constantly pin pictures of home offices on Pinterest. I torture myself for days and days on end with this images of beautiful writing spaces, that I would love to incorporate into my own home but can't because I'm poor. (And also because I don't have that much space to decorate to begin with.)

I do these things frequently, for the same reasons that people make vision boards--I like to see my goals in a way that can often be difficult, because I'm not psychic, and can in no way see the future. I like to picture the way that my writing space would look like, if I had the space, time, and money decorate it as I see fit. I like to find where my name fits, because it somehow makes it more likely that it will fit. Like somehow, the spot is waiting for me, waiting for my future debut novel to slide on into the place it was always meant to be.

It works that way in reverse, too. I have hard copies of just about everything I wrote in high school--every short story, every poem, every brief excerpt of every vague novel premise I had. I keep every journal, every notebook, every scrap piece of paper I scribble on. It gets crammed into a drawer, and even though I never look at it much, it helps to have it around. For whatever reason, having this physical representation of everything I've worked towards makes it more valid. Like I've actually accomplished something, instead of screaming into the void of my own mind.

I always mean to make a vision board, I do. But it never works out--I keep putting it off, because it's too much work and I'm too lazy to set aside the time to do it. I almost don't think I will, because my goals and ambitions change so frequently that it'd be impossible to document everything accurately. I'd rather spend that extra time working towards it, and save the daydreaming for my commute. (And, okay, maybe my shift, too.)

I daydream a lot. But sometimes, it's nice to have something more concrete to look at.

Until later,

- Justyne

Review: The Help by Kathryn Stockett

"Write about what disturbs you, particularly if it bothers no one else." - Kathryn Stockett, The Help

Set in Mississippi in the 1960's, The Help follows three women--Skeeter, a recent college grad; Aibileen, a coloured maid specializing in raising white children; and Minny, Aibileen's best friend, who is as great at cooking as she is bad at keeping her sassy mouth shut. Inspired by advice from a New York publishing house, Skeeter approaches the two maids with a project--a book written from the perspective of black women working for white families. The idea is to portray the good, the bad, and everything in between in as honest a fashion as possible.

I normally try to avoid stories with more than two narrators. I've found that any more than two can cause confusion if not done properly, but Stockett does an excellent, excellent job of setting each character apart from the other, and switching between the three in a smooth, unjarring way. Their voices were very distinct, and each character brought a unique perspective to the story that made it as great as it was.

One of the few complaints I have about this book is that I found that it dragged on a bit at times. It took a solid hundred pages before the idea of the book was even brought up, and more still before anyone even agreed to working on it. The book is a whopping 522 pages--it's a beast. I enjoyed it, but I definitely think it could have shortened down by a bit.

That being said, in comparison to the movie (which I watched once a couple years ago, and again after reading the book), I did enjoy the extra details that the book gave to the characters involved. It showed alternative sides that the movie never got to explore, gave more mystery to characters like Celia Foote before giving away all their secrets. Sometimes, though, there was almost too much mystery, and the story dragged because of it. 

Overall, the characters are phenomenal, but it definitely could have been taken down a hundred pages or so. I can understand a lot of the things the movie cut back on to save run time. The movie didn't suffer from what it ommitted, and I'm sure the book wouldn't have, either, if it received the same alterations.

Final rating: 4 stars.

Until later,

- Justyne

Micro Fiction Monday: A Light in the Dark

The last thing you expect to hear at five am on the beach is singing. Maybe three hours earlier, when clubbers were still stumbling down the boardwalk, high on the intoxication of alcohol and a summer getaway. Maybe three hours later, when the families with young, early-riser children start to make their descent onto the beach, flooding the air with the scent of sunscreen and the sound of childish laughter. But not at five. Five is the transition point--the point where it stops being late, and starts being early. At five, some people are waking up, but no one is on the move—or even singing at all, for that matter.

And yet, I’m standing here in the moonlight, surrounded by the voice trickling down from God knows where.

I look across the boardwalk, but all the expensive villas, tourist shops…even the convenience store is dark. There isn’t a soul awake, a single window brightened. Except…

There is one single, giant lightbulb illuminated. It sweeps across the ocean, disappearing into the distance before rounding back again. In all the years I’ve been here, out of all the nights spent partying around bonfires on the beach, never have I seen the lighthouse functional.

Then again, never have I ever been out here at five am.

As I approach the towering monument, I start to see a figure standing in the window. A portion of the glass is propped open, allowing her song to drift down to the sand below. The song is unfamiliar, and the voice is the most stunning I’ve ever heard, but that’s not what sends me gaping at the building.

No, what catches me off guard is the long, billowing stream of human hair, flowing out the window and waving at me in the wind.

Internet Branding

This day has been a long time coming, my friends. Since as early as 2014, I've been brainstorming and daydreaming and sketching out concepts for a new look to my social media. Every time I started plotting something out, it would get pushed to the back burner--by moving, by school, by NaNoWriMo and a million other projects that were deemed more important and more worthy of my time.

And now, finally....it's done.

It started with a logo. A little doodle of myself that I drew at the beginning of 2015, that you now find plastered all over my social media accounts. As the months turned into a year, I started sketching things every now and then--ideas for how I wanted my blog to look, how I imagined my Twitter header transforming my page. Just last month, I had an epiphany--in a sudden burst of inspiration, I suddenly knew exactly what I wanted my blog to look like.

A couple weeks ago, I launched my Facebook page. In the days since, I have uploaded previews, sneak peeks, progress shots of what I was looking for. I hesitated to set a date of when the new layout would go live, because I didn't know if I could make it.

Then I did. This would be the week. Friday would be the day. So I put it out there, made the promise. And now, here we are. This project has fuelled me the last few weeks--I've stayed up late, I've shoved everything else to the side. I tweaked and pulled and shifted and changed the opacity about a hundred million times.

Now look...look at how pretty it is!

This blog has been long overdue for a major redecorating. The initial layout was one I smashed together quickly--I snapped a picture of some notebooks, through some text and a quick overlay, and off I went. It was fine at the time, and it worked for quite a while, but I'm so, so happy to be moving on and displaying something new.

I'm not just satisfied of this, I'm darn right proud. (Although don't be surprised if you catch small, additional changes in the coming weeks, because I'm still experimenting and trying things out. The fact that I had this much ready at all is a miracle, if you ask me.) I always find it hard to design something uniquely me, because there's so many different things that I want to display that it's often hard to narrow my focus to just one aspect. But this feels right. This blog feels like me.

So click around, explore a bit. I'm so happy to finally be able to show you the finished product, and I hope you enjoy it as much as I enjoyed working away at it!

Until later,

- Justyne

Review: Just Listen by Sarah Dessen

Ah, Just Listen. A personal favourite.

This week's read follows Annabel, a model who went from having everything to nothing at all. After a scandolous party mishap sparks rumours abound and ends her friendship with Sophie, she finds herself on the literal outskirts of her school's social circles--and the cafeteria. There, she meets Owen, who has his own rumours circling the school. Music-obsessed, unbelievably honest, and with a rough past of his own, the two begin an unlikely friendship that gets the school talking more than ever.

As the two tread further into each other's lives, Owen teaches her the importance of listening--to music, to others, and to yourself.

A problem I sometimes find with Dessen's books--as much as I love them--is that the minor characters often end up outshining the main protagonist. In truth, all of Dessen's characters are great, but sometimes I end up caring more about the best friend than the main character. Just Listen is one of the exceptions, as I think Annabel shines out just as brightly among the likes of Mallory, Owen, and Rolly.

I also loved the sisters' ongoing storyline, and their relationships with each other. Each of them had their own lives, their own problems, their own ongoing stories, and yet they all somehow came back around and connected with each other. In a way, they all learned the same lesson, in a variety of different ways.

There were times when Annabel's behaviour was frustrating, but her reluctance to tell her mother the truth about modelling was warranted, understandable, and overall relatable for myself and for others, I'm sure. The idea of speaking up about anything is easy, but actually doing it is another matter entirely.

And finally, at the center of it all, was the relationship between Owen and Annabel. Dessen's characters always have great chemistry, I find, and these two are no exception. Their conversations seemed effortless, and their shift from friendship to something more was a lot more gradual and easy than some of her other books.

Overall, I don't really have any complaints about this one! It's a solid read, although I personally think that some of her other work outshines this one.

Final rating: 4 stars.

Until later,

- Justyne

Micro Fiction Monday: Fragile

I should have known it would end here. I tried so hard to stop it. Knowing the future, it seems, does nothing but turn you into a constant state of denial.

Here’s the thing that no one knew about time travel: the time-space continuum is not a fragile thing. There is no butterfly effect; squashing a bug will never destroy the entire human race. Rather, it’s self repairing. Kill a cricket ten, twenty years ago, and you’ll return to your own, unaltered timeline. It’s like throwing a pebble in the ocean—the ripples only go so far.

There’s an event horizon in the continuum, and once you reach it, there’s no going back. Nothing can be changed, because any attempts at alteration will be smoothed out in the rough current of the time stream. No one knew this—not even me.

So I stood on the brink of it all, rewinding and replaying, twisting and turning the events that had set the greatest tragedy of my life into motion. But with every attempt I made, the laws of the universe followed suit, and nothing brought me any closer to my goal.

I returned to my own time, numb with the pain of having watched death perform a hundred times over.

Story Revivals

I am not going to talk about the new Harry Potter book, for two reasons.

Reason #1: I never really read the Harry Potter books growing up.

Reason #2: When I tried to read the Harry Potter books, I discovered that I didn't actually like it very much. (Which, for my generation, is an apparent crime agianst books. And yet, here we are.)

All the excitement and build-up to the actual release (which, at the time of writing this, was just last night at midnight) has got me thinking, though, about all the recent revivals of classic, beloved franchises that we've seen in recent years. We got a new Star Wars movie back in December, a new Ghostbusters movie just this past month. Finding Dory came out after thirteen years of Ellen Degeneres begging for a sequel. Everyone--everyone--is playing Pokemon GO. The third season of the Sailor Moon remake just wrapped up a couple months ago.

And now, an eigth Harry Potter book, after nine years of publication silence.

Regardless of what it is, I love--love--franchise revivals. I know there are lots of cynics out there who grumble and moan, about how nothing these days is original, how the sequel ruins everything, how a remake is unnecessary and just proves that Hollywood will do anything for a money grab.

To all those Negative Nellies, I have only four words--shut the hell up.

The excitement on the internet this week is palpable. All the fans that grew up with Harry Potter, that have treasured the series in childhood, are bouncing off the walls at the prospect of an eighth book finally coming out. I am not a part of this fandom, but even as an outsider I can see how important this is. Everyone my age gets hit with a wave of nostalgia, as they get to live through this experience that they've only known from a child's perspective.

Not only that, but now the new generation of fans, who were introduced to the series long after it's original publication run finished, get to live through the excitement for the first time. They get to discover what a Harry Potter midnight release is like, they get to live in the excitement of a new book for the first time.

It's an incredible feeling, and no one has the right to deny anyone that excitement. Stories like Harry Potter are able to survive for so long because they matter to people. They make a difference to us, the readers, and can continue to have an influence on us for the rest of our lives.

Stories matter. And the reality of seeing our old favourites renewed in any form doesn't just revitalize our love for a story, or make it relevant in mainstream media again--it revitalizes a community and brings it together.

I don't know. I just thing revivals are pretty damn great.


Until later,

- Justyne

Review: The One by Kiera Cass

"Break my heart. Break it a thousand times if you like. It was only ever yours to break anyway." - Kiera Cass, The One

WARNING: THE FOLLOWING REVIEW CONTAINS SPOILERS FOR BOTH THE SELECTION, AND THE ELITE. (AND ALSO MINOR SPOILERS FOR THE ONE BUT I MEAN THAT SHOULD ALMOST BE OBVIOUS.)

Hello, friends! As mentioned in last week's review, this week's won't be as detailed as I might like, simply because it's been a full month since I read the two books back-to-back, and they kind of almost blend together. If you haven't already read the review for The Elite (or for The Selection, for that matter), you can do that here and here. Otherwise, buckle up for the ride!

America Singer almost got herself kicked out of the Selection--but she's back, and she's not ready or willing to lose to anyone. It doesn't matter that the king is out to get her, or that Maxon might have finally lost patience with her, or that she has suddenly found herself competing furiously with another girl for his love. She has made her decision. She is determined to win Maxon back.

But the country is getting restless, and with rebel attacks becoming more frequent and more dangerous, it's not just her heart on the line anymore--it's her life.

Probably my biggest source of relief for this book was that America finally chose a guy. Hallelujah! Now, the fact that she took the entire book to inform a certain someone of her decision was still frustrating--but it was a new frustration, so I'm okay with that.

I loved meeting the rebels in this book, and learning more about the differences between the two different rebel groups. The problem is, I don't think this book was really long enough to properly delve into it--I don't think we got the full potential of what could have been done with those story lines, and I'm really disappointed that the rebel characters didn't have more of an impact on the story.

ALSO. I was all for the four Elite girls becoming BFFs, but I felt it all happened rather...quickly. I loved Celine's change of heart, and getting to learn a little more about her as a character. But the shift that started slowly was rushed to completion halfway through, and I couldn't really appreciate the otherwise fantastic bonding scenes between them quite as much as I would have had the shift been more consistent throughout.

Overall, I loved a lot of things about this book, but none of them were done as well as I thought they could've been. I still gave it a solid 5, simply for its inability to be put down--and also the epilogue.

Final rating: 5 stars.


Until later,

- Justyne

Micro Fiction Monday: Summer Is

Summer is feet on the dashboard, plastic warmed by the shining sun. It’s the howling wind when you roll down the car window, the country station blasting through the speakers. Summer is an excuse to eat ice cream, licking the stray drips off your fingers. It’s running around barefoot, abandoning your sandals to feel the sand, the pavement, the grass beneath your toes.

Summer is possibility. It’s the feeling that longer days mean more time, that you can hop on the wind and ride it for miles. Summer is temporary freedom—from school, from work, from responsibility. It’s a day at the beach, or at the park, or just driving around doing nothing at all.

Summer is everything, and nothing. It’s a vacation, a road trip, cramming every second full with something new and exciting. It’s a day spent at home, in the comfort of air conditioning, licking a popsicle from the comfort of your own couch. Summer is both comfort and excitement, and everything in between.

Summer is the hope that, at the end of it all, you’ll have an amazing story to tell.